Hetalia: When Countries Die
by Mori Kurai
Summary: Across the Atlantic, America is busy bragging about his boss's new top secret device. When the foolhardy young country accidentally initiates a world-ending disaster, the other European nations must stop the catastrophe before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: 

It was a mid-afternoon day late in the month of September. In the sprawling sapphire blueness above, a disk of bright light shone brilliantly. Its rays shimmering off the darkness of a lone cloud looming dangerously behind some distant range. Still golden stalks of wild weeds swayed like waves in the sea as a crisp breeze swept through the valley.

Despite the chilled temperatures, two men could be seen from afar, their statures strained from cold and effort as they ran along a gravel road. Both men appeared to be of their early twenties.

One of them, a tall man clad in a militaristic German trench coat bore short blond hair which he kept slicked back and semi hidden beneath his officers' hat. The other shorter man kept his auburn hair mid-length and parted in the middle so that it gave him bangs, complete with an odd and persistent stray curled hair sticking out on the left side of his head. His entire being seemed casual compared to the blonde man, even despite his own uniform. Even his steps were bouncier and fairly childlike.

"Germany!" the brunette whined suddenly flapping his arms in protest, "it's so cold! Let's just go home!" Germany sighed heavily, as he stood fiddling with his trench coat.

"Italy... I told you to wear a coat. You said that you were cold tolerant."

"W-well it was warmer earlier..." Italy replied, hugging himself for warmth. "I'm sorry Germany..."

The two men were actually in fact more than just normal people. They were also countries. Being a country was filled with benefits- as they lived as long as the country stayed alive, and only died if it was resolved or conquered and absorbed.

But it also had his drawbacks. As Ludwig Weilschmidt, the living embodiment of the country of Deutschland, quietly removed his trench coat and wrapped it around a shuddering Italy, remembered sullenly.

Allies and foes too were predetermined for countries. Their bosses told them who they could befriend and who they couldn't. Like a parent presiding over their children's friends. But Germany, despite his human body's young physical age, had existed longer than any normal person could hope to live. Not that anyone would want to, he thought bitterly.

Italia Veneziano, or Feliciano Vargas was one of those allies. One of those countries Germany's past bosses had had him associate with and befriend. Even when that human war had ended, and their bosses had dissolved their alliances, Germany and Italy had remained friends.

It didn't make sense, but even now their cultures were undeniably linked. Despite their differences, Germany couldn't deny that he enjoyed spending time together with the warm and lovable country. He'd never admit it though.

"Germany," Italy asked quietly, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at Germany, "won't you be cold now?"

Germany forced a laugh.

"Of course not," he lied, "I actually am cold resistant, unlike you. I live here don't I?"

Italy nodded, shifting his eyes down out along the road.

"Germany, I've been meaning to ask you something for a while." The Italian's voice was unusually somber.

"And what would that be?"

"I'm a nuisance aren't I? How... Why do you put up with me? It's not like your boss makes you do it."

For a moment Germany said nothing as he examined Italy thoroughly. Italy's face was turned away and out towards the distant mountain range, but Germany was nearly certain he was choking back tears.

"Why are you asking me this?"

The Italian was silent in response. Odd, Germany thought to himself. It almost seemed like Italy had read his thoughts. But it wasn't like that, not at all. This too, seemed all to well timed, with Oktoberfest right around the corner. Of course, Germany clenched his teeth. It probably has to do with him.

"Feliciano Vargas," Germany began as he placed his hand on Italy's chin to redirect the country's glance, "did your brother Romano say something to you?"

Lovino Vargas, or Italia Romano, (or South Italy as he was known before the reunification of Italy,) was notorious for scheming up ways to get his brother away from "the potato-loving bastard" Germany. He never seemed to cease his insults, or get more creative in them. Romano and his brother Veneziano weren't known for being too intelligent to be honest anyway; as Romano's infamous "mustache" illustrated. No matter what Romano claimed, mustaches, no matter how tacky, are not real weapons.

Italy flushed pinkly at the mention of his name. It wasn't often when countries addressed each other with their human names. It was more intimate.

"U-uhm well..." He sputtered desperately in a futile attempt to avoid incriminating his older brother. "Romano didn't-"

"Aha." Germany's eyebrow twitched slightly as he refrained from a scowl meant for Romano. "Well he likes to say things about me that aren't exactly true. We're friends Italy. Real friends. Whether or not my leader wants me to befriend you matters not to me. This isn't 1941 anymore, and yet here I am out with you making sure you don't become like America with your love of pasta and other foods." The Italian's eyes brightened up as a relieved grin etched its way across his face.

"Of course I knew we were friends! I just wanted to hear you say it aloud. Ohhh~ and Germany?"

"Ja?"

"I like it when you use my real name too."

Germany froze as he took in Italy's words, which for some reason resonated differently than before. Germany searched Italy's eyes for a moment and his face too read something that Germany could not place. But the fleeting expression had gone as soon as it appeared, and without another word Italy had hugged him and dashed off away back down the road.

"What the hell was that?" Germany grumbled to himself as he began to walk after the bounding country, as he himself shivered a little against the cold. "He sure knows how to make an exit."


	2. Chapter 2

It was back at Germany's house where finally the two countries finally found solace from the bitter fall gusts outside. Italy had made himself right at home amongst Germany's leather recliner, releasing a soft "Bene~!" as he curled up. The recliner was set in front of a rather comforting hearth that heated the living room nicely. The Italian's cheeks were still flushed, Germany noted as he studied the country from afar. _He's probably still a bit chilled_, Germany told himself as he set about heating up some hard apple cider left over from his older brothers raid on another country's cabinet.

"Do you want some cider?" Germany asked holding up the container for Italy to see. "It'll help take the cold out."

"Alcohol at this hour?" He asked with a laugh nodding to the window. Light had already begun to fade. " I better be staying the night then, Japan says my driving's horrendous enough without alcohol." Italy frowned and kicked his feet a little in disdain.

"I think I drive just fine. Right Germany?" Germany coughed to clear his throat handing Italy the cider. He did care about the Italian's feelings, but he never agreed more on any other subject that this one with Japan. Italy's driving WAS horrendous. So Germany took a sip of the cider. It's harder to answer when your mouth is full.

Mimicking Germany's actions, Italy took a swig out of his own cup.

"Mmm!" Italy chimed closing his eyes to better enjoy the flavor. "Whose cider did Prussia take this year? It's got to be the best yet!"

Germany squinted in remembrance. The day his brother brought it back he remembered Prussia mumbling something about it being a risk before trying to force a half asleep Germany to taste test it... Which immediately answered the question.

"I believe it's England's actually..." He replied, examining the bottle closely.

Italy choked, half swallowing and half spitting cider back into his mug, his face drained of color.

"Don't worry," Germany smiled darkly, "Prussia already drank the first bottle and he hasn't died."

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the doorway followed by the ding of the doorbell.

"Eh. If it's Prussia I should just leave him out." Germany groaned standing up. "Oh and it was a joke Italy, it's perfectly safe." He added realizing that Italy was still unsure of the cider.

Germany peered cautiously out through the peephole on his door.

"Hmm! It's Japan!"

"Japan?" Italy cried standing up dropping his mug. " What is he doing here? O-oh sorry..." he shuffled about trying to collect the shards of ceramic off the wood floor, "a-at least it was empty... I'll get you a new one... You should tell Japan no one's home."

Germany frowned. What was this? Was he avoiding him?

"You realize by telling him I'm not home he'll know I'm here right? I'm letting him in, he's gone far to visit me, Italy." Germany told him disapprovingly, unlatching the dead bolt.

" So that's why it never works..."

"Why hallo, there Japan!"

"Konbanwa, Doitsu," Japan replied quietly, barely audible against the howling wind, "May I occupy a moment of your time?"

The German nodded allowing Japan to enter. Japan walked in hanging up his coat on a rack by the entryway. The country paused briefly, taking in Italy's presence with ancient eyes.

"Feel free to take a seat." Germany said casually, trying to break the strange tension.

Arigatou, Doitsu-san."

Italy shuffled nervously as Japan took seat on the far end of the sofa next to him.

"So what brings you to my place in this weather, Japan? And can I get you anything?" Japan gazed back with calm, emotion-free eyes.

"No thank you. I came here wondering if you had seen one of Greece's cats. He asked if I could help him search for her." Japan reached into his pants pocket to reveal a small photograph of a grayish white cat.

"Oh no!" Italy cried standing up from his chair, " you can't have her back!"

Germany sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead.

"Of course..." the tension finally made sense, Germany thought to himself. Italy must have realized Japan would come looking for the cat eventually.

"Now Italy, it isn't proper to keep other people's cats. Where is she?" Italy sniffled back a few tears and pointed to the backdoor.

"She's outside in a tree... Germany! Please tell Japan I'll take good care of her! Please!" The Italian rushed to where Germany still stood by the entry way and flung himself forward clutching the German's shirt tightly, and burying his face into his chest.

Gently, Germany stroked the back of Italy's head in consolation.

"Italy, you can't have other people's cats, Japan is right." Italy backed away from Germany and glared.

"Still!" He replied defiantly.

"Italy," Germany laughed a little, "I think you're slightly drunk on cider. You know you can't keep her!" Italy sniffed up a few more tears, and after a terse "Whatever. Good night." he stumbled away off towards the bedrooms.

"Wow..." was all Germany could manage after the country disappeared from visual range.

"Oh I suppose I should have told you, their personalities sometimes swap when they're drunk."

"Whose?"

Japan turned to Germany with a smile.

"The Italy brothers. Romano becomes nice... Isn't it weird? Oh, look here she is..." Japan opened the door to retrieve the cat who was now sitting and mewing at the doorway.

"How'd you learn about that one?" Germany asked watching Japan stoop to pick up the cat.

"Oh, Spain knows a lot about them. You should ask him." Japan smiled again and made his way for the front door. "I really ought to be going now, Greece is expecting me. Sayounara!" The Oriental country bided his farewell as he bowed one last time and shut the door.

Even after Japan had left his house Germany couldn't shake a nagging feeling that the answer he had given him had not been an answer at all.

"Eh, I feel like I'm in some alternate universe," he growled to himself rubbing his temples. "Like those weird fan comics of Japan's... Ugh."

"Italy?" He called out down the hallway, cupping his hands in front of his mouth. "I'm sorry, you can come back out now."

When no reply came, Germany decided to investigate.

"Italy?" he asked in a calmer voice, "I'm sorry... But you know you couldn't keep Greece's cat..." It was the sounds of Italy's quaking sobs that alerted him to the open door of his own bedroom.

"Italy?"

"Go away!" Came the sharp reply.

"I'm sorry..."

"I-I don't care!"

Upon entering the bedroom it took Germany's eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Italy was curled up on his bed grasping firmly a pillow, and even in the darkness Germany could see him shuddering with tears.

Sitting down on one side of the bed, Germany reached a hand out to Italy, and touched his shoulder lightly.

" I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted that cat so much." Italy looked up from the pillow, his eyes red and puffy.

"Yeah..."

"Don't you already have a cat though, Italy?" Germany asked, running a hand through Italy's hair again. It seemed to help calm him down.

"Well, yes.." He mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. "Um, Germany..?"

Germany tried to strain a smile. It was times like this Germany wished his stern face could look more pleasant... His smiles often resembled scowls or grimaces rather than happy or sympathetic expressions.

"Ja?"

"Why don't you use my real name more often?"

"Uh, what?"

Germany blinked with confusion. That cider must have been even stronger than he thought.

" I'm sleepy Germany..." he said softly turning his face towards the wall. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Buona notte, Ludwig." Germany sighed and covered the Italian up in his bed. He was still in his day clothes, but he'd fallen asleep before Germany could remind him.

"Remind me to never give him Cider again." Germany mumbled heading off to a spare room to change. "Maybe there was something in it after all. Tomorrow I'll ask England at the world conference or something."

After changing, Germany secured the house and turned off the lights. It was only around 8:30pm, but it seemed much later, and the more he thought about it, the more tired he became.

The spare room was usually for guests, but Germany didn't have the heart to wake up the Italian from his sleep. He had seemed different all day, now Germany thought in retrospect. The incident with the cat may have been just what he needed to go off... Whatever it was must be bad to get that carefree Italian so wound up. Maybe Romano had really said something nasty this time after all. Still, it wasn't like Romano to try and hurt his brothers feelings. His plots circled around getting Italy away from Germany.

Thoughts spun round and round in his head endlessly. Tomorrow he'd investigate into what was wrong and try to solve it before it evolved into something worse. Slowly his thoughts blurred and faded into dreams and his consciousness melted away.

"Germany? Germany?"

Italy's voice was unmistakable. He wanted something... What was it?

"Can I stay in here... I'm cold."

Why not it couldn't hurt? Ah... He's getting in... Hmm.

"Germany can we cuddle? I'm sorry about earlier..."

Germany sat up rubbing his eyes and gazed hazily at the clock. It was 3 am... And it was most definitely chilly in the house.

"...fine you can stay in here..." He murmured trying to see the other in the dark. "...but no cuddling..."

"okay Germany..." he replied happily snuggling into the bed.

"...Italy... Italy? Are you naked ?"

"Yup."

"What the hell!" Germany sat up immediately and clicked on the light. Italy just smiled in return, his eyes half-open.

"Damn you! Go put something on! There's a dresser over there. No wonder you're cold!"

"But I always sleep naked..."

"Put on clothes, Italy."

"Okay..." he replied crestfallen, hopping out of bed. Germany shielded his eyes as Italy got dressed into a pair of Germany's blue boxers and a black T-shirt and ran back to the bedside.

"Decent?" He asked.

"Ja." Germany sighed, his arm covering his eyes, this time from the light. "Now get in or go back to the other room... I would like to resume sleeping." The country climbed back in and curled up a little too close to him, but Germany was too exhausted to care. Off went the light and shut went his eyes as he hoped to catch a few more hours before the sun illuminated the sky and the world conference convened.


End file.
